Witch's Daughter
by j.haerton
Summary: This story is a hybrid of medieval fairy tales and legends. Some are Sleeping Beauty, Hansel and Gretel, and more. Witches are real. Evil as they are though, it is their daughters that are the most feared. The look of a Witch's daughter is unique and terrifying. A curse from the heavens, supposedly, for their mothers' evil deeds. Most never have a chance, but this one did.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! This tale is kind of a mish-mash of several different fairy tales. There's elements of Sleeping Beauty, Hansel and Gretel, Beauty and the Beast, The Honest Woodcutter and so on and so forth. It's rated T for tense and scary scenes. Please leave comments and feedback. I'm new at putting my story ideas on paper, and I'd like to know what I do well and what I can do better.**

**Hope you enjoy! Happy readings!**

Witch's Daughter

Prologue

Witches are evil. Witches are lazy. Witches have made a deal with a devil. Witches, are indistinguishable from any other folk. However, a Witch's child is not so lucky. When a witch has a child, it is always a girl, and is always cursed with pale, chalky skin. She will always have red eyes and small fangs. Witches are almost always women, so the easiest way for them to live comfortably is to seduce a man, and then kill him when they have their first child. It buys them more time to gather his belonging and run to a new village. The lucky men see their child, and know to run away from the demon before she can strike. You may wonder why a Witch would ever bother with children if they are such a give away. These frightful children also have a frightful strength, speed, and if they let them grow and harden, their nails can be as sharp and deadly as claws. Raised by their mothers to be ferocious and bloodthirsty, they become a formidable weapon to a Witch, especially in a world where everyone wants you dead. A single Witch Daughter can raid enough villages to keep their mother comfortable for the rest of her days. One more giveaway, is that when Witch Daughters cry, their tears are like acid to them, burning their skin where they fall. Fortunately for them, they almost never cry. They never feel pity. Their is very little of anything human left in them by the time they are grown. But perhaps it would be different, if they were raised.

**Chapter 1: On the Farm**

Karl paced up and down impatiently. Greta had insisted no old woman to help her. In fact, she had demanded to be left alone entirely to give birth to her child.

"Why would I want an old spinster, or a man in the room?! You would be the two worst people to talk to about birthing a child. I've seen it done plenty a time, and I'll take care of it myself!"

Still, Karl had refused to leave the house. Greta might think she knew everything, but Karl knew how dangerous childbirth could be to a woman. His own mother had died giving birth to his baby brother that had died as well. Karl would not leave his wife to face this danger entirely alone. He could hear his wife's heavy breathing and groans coming through the door. He stepped over to the fireplace and made sure all the water she had said to boil was still hot. One pot had become lukewarm, so he moved it closer to the flames again.

Just then, a piercing baby's cry broke through the stuffy cottage. Karl started and looked up. A smile of sheer delight started across his face. He rushed towards the door but he'd barely touched it when his wife called out-"Don't you dare! We both look a state!"

"Dearest Greta, you've done so much, just let me help clean-"

"You're shouting is only making her cry more! Just leave the water by the door and I'll have us cleaned up in a moment. Let a poor woman and baby alone for just 5 minutes!"

Half sighing half growling, Karl closed the door and fetched the water. Greta's hand shot out of the door and pulled the water in. Karl glanced towards her, afraid to make her mad. She just looked tired, a look he'd gotten quite use to over the past 9 months.

"Worry, worry, worry. Won't even let a man hold his daughter," he mumbled under his breath.

But at the word daughter, his face lit up again. She had said it was a girl. Karl stared contentedly into the flames, his eyes glazed over as his thoughts traveled to the future he would build for his little family. The farm was small, but he was also a good woodcutter. Between the two professions, he was confident he could make enough to keep them all comfortable.

Greta opened the door to the room. She'd changed her clothing and held the precious bundle in one arm and the dirty linens in another. She dropped the linens into the basket she'd had Karl leave near the door, and then finally started towards her husband.

Karl stood and held out his hands, but Greta raised a finger.

"Sit down. You told me yourself you've never held one before, and I won't have you dropping her."

Karl smiled and sat quickly, eagerly holding out his hands again. He raised his eyes from the bundle to Greta's face for just a moment. He paused. She was smiling, to be sure, but there was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite read. Something cold and...sly. But just then the bundle whimpered, and Karl slowly curled his arms around it, bringing his new daughter close to his chest.

Greta set the basket of linens by the fire, directly below the baby in Karl's arms.

"I'm not going to drop her," he insisted.

Karl started to coo and rock his little girl. Her tiny eyes were shut tight, her fists rubbing against her nose. Though newborn, she had a black tuft of hair already on the top of her head.

"Is it normal for a baby to be so pale?" questioned Karl as he leaned his head down closer to her.

Greta slipped her hand into her pocket, taking a firm grip on the blade she'd stowed there.

"Not usually, but she is definitely her mother's daughter."

Karl's brow scrunched, he'd rarely seen a woman so tanned as Greta was. She never did remember to wear her cap.

Just then, the little one yawned, revealing little, tiny points, already sticking up inside her red mouth. Karl froze, his hand just above her face.

Greta, stiffened, slowly drawing the dagger out of her skirt.

Karl reached up to the baby's face, and softly lifted one eyelid. The baby fidgeted and grasped Karl's thumb as her unfocused red eye was struck by the light of the flames. The iris was red.

Karl slowly looked up at Greta. His eye scanned over her hand hidden behind her skirt, and the hard sneer on her face. He glanced back down at the tiny child still clasping his hand. As Greta took another step forward, Karl spoke.

"Can we call her Aster?"

Greta halted. "What?"

"Her name. Aster. Like the flowers by the road."

Greta stared, but Karl continued to look at the baby.

"I don't know how you'll manage to feed her with teeth like that. She'll still need milk at the first, won't she?"

Karl finally looked up. Greta stared at him in confusion. Slowly, she moved her hand from the back to the front. Karl glanced at the knife in her hand, but did not set his daughter down.

"You lied to me. But, she's my daughter Greta. I'm not going to let you walk away with her."

Greta sneered. "What makes you think you have a say?"

"If you want to go try to make your way on your own, your welcome to it. But she's staying with me. Do you want to be her mother, or do you want to go?"

Greta looked Karl in the eye. "You'll just hand me over to the town. I have not interest in being stoned or burned!" She started towards Karl, but he stood and clutched the child to his chest, wrapping his arms till she was covered entirely.

"I won't unless you make me. I don't want them to take her away either, and we both know they would try. If you're so worried about the town, I'll build you a new cottage. Further away from them. We can say we want more space for our family. But you'll not be taking the child away from me. I'm her father, and she'll stay with her father."

Greta looked daggers at Karl. Her eyes reflected the flames from the fire as she tightened her grip on the knife, but then she relaxed it.

"Keeping her fed will take more effort," tested Greta.

"I'll take care of it." Karl replied curtly.

"She doesn't drink milk, she starts on meat."

"We have some rabbit from yesterday," he murmured quietly.

Greta sat down on the second stool near the fire, and set the blade slowly on the mantle. Karl waited till she moved her hand away from it and then sat down too, relaxing his grip, and continuing to rock his child.

"Well then...Aster you said?" asked Greta with a smile.

**So, I am not fully committed to the name of the baby in this first chapter. I keep shifting between Aster (a flower associated with magic that takes it name from the stars) and Astrid (a Norse name meaning "divinely beautiful"). I like the meaning, uniqueness and the connotations of Aster, but there is something special about Karl naming his daughter Astrid as well to me, even if it is a less unique name. **

**Read the chapter, and then if you wanna have a say, post it in the comments before I publish the next chapter. **

**My goal is to do at least one chapter a week, probably on Tuesday or Saturday when I have the most time to write.**

**'Till next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all. A short chapter for today, but I should have a longer one ready by the end of this week. As always, feedback would be appreciated!**

**Chapter 2: In the Woods**

Karl chopped away at the tree, eager to finish his work and return home for the day. Still, his shoulders were sore, and he paused in his work to mop his brow. He glanced over at his basket from lunch, but he knew it was empty. The affectionate Greta he knew from the first days of his marriage had long since disappeared.

With the birth of their daughter, she had become a colder, unfeeling woman. Perhaps that was the way she had always been. She did little to clean the house or care for the garden anymore. Truth be told, Karl was not entirely sure what she did spend the day doing. The few times he'd come home during the day to repair his ax, or because of a storm, Greta had either been napping by the fire, or coming back from wandering in the woods, her arms full of herbs that she kept hidden from Karl. One time he had come home and remarked on the smells of spices in the room from a large pot Greta was stirring over. She had scowled, poured the contents into a jar, and buried them in the backyard. The next day she told Karl to build her a fire pit behind the barn where they kept their horse. Whatever concoctions she made, she made them out of sight of Karl. It made him uneasy to know she still practiced her craft, but he was afraid to say anything about it. Afraid she would...

"Papa!" cried a cheerful voice. Karl turned around to see Aster, standing only a yard away. When she saw her father looking at her, she jumped forward and threw her hands up. "Grrrr!" She growled. Karl burst out laughing.

Aster pouted and dropped her hands. "I didn't scare you?" /

Karl shook his head. "As good as you've got at walking silently Aster, I'm afraid you just don't have a scary bone in your body. Aster looked disappointed, but Karl cupped her chin and tilted her face up./

"Never mind that Aster. Look at how quiet you were. I didn't hear a sound before you called out." Aster's face brightened.

She continued to smile as she pulled out a kerchief bundle. A sweet, delicious smell was wafting from the warm package. "I brought you some biscuits papa! Mama helped me make them fresh this morning!"

"Oh, did she now?" asked Karl, pleasantly surprised./

"Yes, and we can eat all of them." Aster smiled as she spread the blanket on her arm on the ground and sat down. Karl smiled, and set his ax out of the way before joining his young daughter on the ground. Aster started to pull out a cookie to eat, but Karl stopped her. "Are you forgetting something?" Aster's brow puckered, but then she nodded and quickly bowed her head to say grace before biting into her treat. Karl ate a treat slowly.

"They are delicious.:

Aster shook her head happily. "We made them today after Mama had me practice. Mama has me practice walking around too Papa, only she calls it sneaking."

"Oh does she now," said Karl, failing to keep his voice completely even. "Well, you must have done well. You're mother doesn't cook often anymore."

"I did do well, and Mama thought my face was scary! Then, she said she would make them for me if I...oh!" Aster's eyes went wide and she quickly closed her mouth. /

"Aye, what's this now? You don't keep secrets from your father. What did you do for your mother?"/

Aster looked down and folded her hands. "Nothing," she said quietly.

Karl put his hand around Aster./

"Aster," he said gently, "tell me."

Aster looked sheepishly off into the distance. "I caught a bird today."

"Oh?" said Karl. "Birds did always seem to take to you. They seem to be the friendliest creature here."

Aster stayed silent. Karl finally prodded her. "What was the bird for?" Aster took a gulp. "Mama said I had to catch it, and when I did...she told me to...she wanted to cook it."

Karl nodded. He knew his little girl didn't like hurting the animals. Her mother had taught her to kill and pluck a chicken, but Aster never liked doing it, and Karl tried to keep her from it, but he knew Greta still made Aster do it when he wasn't home."

"So you had to pluck it?" he asked gently. Aster shook her head. "I'm not supposed to tell."

"Aster," Karl pleaded.

"Mama had me...use my teeth to break its neck. She said I needed to be stronger."

"I see," said Karl with a frown.

Karl gave Aster's shoulders a tight squeeze. They couldn't go on like this. Aster couldn't go on. Being pulled one way, and then another. It was becoming clearer and clearer to Karl that Greta had not given up her Witch ways, or her plans for her daughter. The biscuits scent still reached up to him, but Karl had not interest in gifts his wife made if his daughter behaved violently for her.

"Well, you're mother's got the wrong idea about strength my girl," said Karl standing up. "Before we finish your snack, let me see you climb. Show your Father what real strengths is."

Aster sat up straighter with a smile and jumped to her feet. Faster than a hare, she raced to a sturdy oak. Karl had tried to keep her nails short, but when he saw how determined Greta was that they would grow and harden, he'd decided to use them to further protect Aster. Aster surveyed the tree for a moment, and then drove her nails into the bark, and started to climb. Her shoes were a thin leather, and they helped her to grip. Karl had taught her how to hold with her knees too till she could reach the higher branches closer together. In just a few moments, Aster had made it to almost the top. /

"Stop when it sways!" called out Karl. "You keep growing every day, don't step on a branch that can't take your weight!"

Aster paused near the top, and looked out around her. "I can still climb higher than you Papa!" Glancing the other say, Aster cried out in glee. "Papa, I can see the village from here! I never knew it was so close!"

Karl frowned, and looked the way Aster was. A village to the west? He'd been seeing more and more new faces, but he hadn't realized a new settlement had taken root. They were being boxed in closer and closer. Perhaps their time on this mountain was near its end.

Well done my lass, now hurry back down!" called Karl, a slight hint of urgency in his voice. Aster hurried down and dropped to the grass in front of him. "Now can we finish our treat?" she asked.

"Aye", said Karl, still looking off to the west. "Let's have our treat, and then we both best hurry home.

Back at the house, Greta hurried to finish her potion. She hoped Aster would keep Karl busy today. Like Karl, she too had noticed the new, small settlement to the West. More people were coming to this place. More birds for the plucking. If only she could get out from Karl's thumb. What had started as an easy and comfortable arrangement had begun to be irksome to her. Her daughter was growing up soft. She'd had to drive her hard to get the sparrow's blood she needed for this potion, spending her morning making the stupid treat to coax Aster. Greta stirred the pot, throwing more dogwood leaves into the mixture. "Ayche Ven Tiben" she muttered over and over. Soon. Soon she would be free from this cage. /p

"Karl and Aster walked home, arriving just as Greta came out from her barn.

"Run on in and wash up," said Karl. "I'd like to have a word with your Mother."

Smiling, Aster hurried into the small cottage. Greta tried to follow, but Karl grabbed her arm.

"Take your hand of me," hissed Greta.

Karl's eyes narrowed, and he pulled Greta back away from the door and around to the side of the house. Greta pulled her arm out of his grip.

"Greta, I know the things you've been making Aster do." Greta's eyes flashed fire.

"No, and I won't have you laying a hand on her for telling me either. She told me very little, but I can guess the rest. Did you think I wouldn't notice the snarling faces she makes, or the way she trembles whenever I leave in the morning?"

"Greta looked Karl in the eyes. "She's mine. I've let you be her father, far longer than most of my sisters would have. But you're making her soft you foolish man. Do you not see the people gathering around. Do you not hear the things they already whisper about our family. They notice how little we come to the town. They gossip and whisper, and one day they'll see. What do you think will keep Aster safe then? Aster is my daughter. Any fool who sees her will know, and the only one who will be able to save her is Aster herself. She isn't meant to be a sniveling wife, or a fancy ornament. She was born wilder than any animal in this forest, and she must be fiercer than them too."

With that Greta spun to head back into the house, but Karl called out after her.

"Greta!"

She turned slightly to look back at him. Karl looked in her eyes, searching for some of the warmth he missed, but eventually lowered his head sadly before looking up one more time. "I said I'd take care of you both and I meant it. We'll move further up the mountain. We'll be fine."

Greta scoffed, and went inside the door.

Aster stepped away from the window before her mother stepped in, frowning. Dinner was quiet and uncomfortable. Aster went to bed even earlier than usual, but she sat in bed thinking. Her parents didn't talk, but even at 10, Aster understood plenty. She had realized at 4 that her face scared the animals. At 6 she'd caught a glance of herself and her mother in the water and realized they didn't look the same. She knew they didn't go to the village because of her. Aster looked up from her bed out the window. She looked to the west. The new village had looked so beautiful. Aster's brow furrowed for a moment as she thought, but then she sat up quickly. Silently, as silently as they had taught her, Aster slipped on her shoes and skirt, buttoned her vest, wrapped her shawl around her, and slipped outside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: At the Village**

Aster ran through the last of the night, leaving now prints or sign in her path. She hoped the pillows she'd left behind in her bed would make Mama and Papa think she was sleeping late. They often seemed forgetful the morning after a fight, but she wasn't sure. She didn't tire. Mama never worried about her getting enough sleep, but her never ending energy seemed to be one of the few things about her that genuinely worried Papa. She didn't know it, but he was worried about keeping up with her some day.

Aster reached the village by dawn. The people were just waking up and setting about their chores. Pulling her shawl up and around her face, Aster slipped behind a house. She wandered through the village, watching the women hanging their laundry, the men rushing off to business or to the pubs. In just a few short hours the whole place was alive, and busier than Aster had ever seen it before. At first, the noise and the bustle scared her, and she stayed close in the shadows. Little by little though, she felt herself drawn in. Aster had spent many a day creeping near the animals and watching them for hours. She was surprised how similar people felt. The old men chatted like sparrows. The young men bounded around like the stags, and the mothers guarded their babes like the bears. Her favorite, were the children though. They swooped in and out of the adults like a flock of fledgling birds, trying their wings for the first time.

Inch by inch, Aster moved closer and closer to them. She was particularly drawn in by a group of children kicking and passing a small ball back and forth. It was like the one mother and knit for her, but larger, and not made of wool. They all laughed and cheered as it rolled along, when suddenly with a badly placed kick by one eager boy, it landed right in front of Aster. She froze like a deer as all the children turned to look at her. Aster clenched her jaw close tightly and pulled her shawl forward.

"Well?" called one of the girls impatiently.

Aster remained frozen.

"Throw it!" cried one of the boys.

Aster gripped her shawl.

"Kick it!" shouted another little boy and he started to step forward to retrieve the ball.

Startled, Aster kicked the ball quickly to him, hoping to keep him back, but it went flying past him and into the gut of the boy who'd shouted to throw it.

"Ooof" he gasped as he grabbed his stomach. Some of the children looked chocked, a couple of them giggled, but the closest boy look delighted.

"Aye, that was well done!...for a girl," he added, curbing his enthusiasm.

Aster just nodded, and hoped they'd turn away. Fortunately, the boy she'd kicked the ball too also wanted to redirect their admiration, so he threw the ball hard towards the head of one of the little girls.

"Hey!" she cried ducking. Her friend grabbed the ball and chucked it back towards the offending boy, and the game continued. Aster started to step back, but someone threw the ball her way again, so she kicked it, more softly this time, before anyone could step closer to her. For the next few minutes Aster quietly enjoyed the game, even starting to smile and give a little chuckle every time the ball came her way. All the children spoke similar to the way Papa did. She'd never wondered about where her parents came from, but the similarity made Aster feel more at ease. Still, she was always quick to kick the ball away, not wanting anyone to come too close to her.

But they were getting closer. The game slowly started to gravitate closer and closer towards the corner of the house where Aster stood.

Finally, one little girl threw the ball right at Aster's head. Reflexively, she raised her hands to catch it, letting her shawl fall back.

With the sun rising behind her in the East, the children did not look to closely, so none of them saw that her eyes were any particular color under the shade of the house, or the small fangs peeking out as her giggle escaped her, but just as she threw the ball back, she heard a noise behind her and turned. A woman had just stepped out of the house and turned to call to her children in their game when Aster turned. The sun now fell directly onto Aster's face, lighting up her haunting features and glinting off her blood red eyes.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" screamed the woman, falling back against her door, and grabbing her broom. She started swinging it in front of her, trying to hit Aster. Aster jumped back quickly, her mouth opening in surprise and showing her fangs.

"A Hexentochter!" she cried. "The child of a witch! Devil's spawn!"

Aster stepped further back, and glanced over her shoulder. All the children could see her clearly now, and started running away and shrieking in terror. Except for the boy who had complimented her kick. he stood there, frozen in surprise, his mouth open in a large O. But when Aster looked at him, his movement came back and he dropped to his knees to grab stones. Before Aster realized what was happening, the boy was throwing the stones at her as his mother swung the broom. Dodging to avoid a rock Aster ran too close to the woman, and felt the broom come crashing down on her head.

"Help, help!" cried the woman. Aster dazedly looked up as the woman came closer. Panicked, she threw her arms up and growled "ARGHHHHH!" The woman dropped her broom in fright and fell up as her young boy came running in front of her, a rock in each hand.

"Get away from my mother you monster!" he cried.

Aster dropped her arms. "I...I didn't..."

"Don't hex us!" he cried, throwing a rock. Aster ducked, and then jumped up and started running. She could hear the voices behind her multiplying. Hear the screams and shrieks.

Her face started to burn and sting. Raising her hand to her face, she felt her tears, like flames on her skin.

Aster hurried into the woods. She could run faster than any of the villagers, but she'd already been running that morning, and she was starting to wear down.

"Hurry!" she heard a voice call.

"That way!" cried another, even closer.

Panicked, Aster looked behind her. She could just make out a crowd tearing through the trees towards her. She could see the sun glinting off the farming tools they carried.

The look cost her though as one of the younger men broke through the trees, catching site of her. Aster took of running again, but they had seen her, and were determined not to lose sight of her. Aster passed the bushes on the ground, but she was scared to hide so close to the men. Suddenly, Aster tripped on a large tree root.

"There," cried one of the men. "She's down!"

Grabbing the tree, Aster clawed herself into a standing position and then took off. She ran around a corner, and rushed to another tree, scaling it as fast as she could. Faster then she ever had before. She did not stop at the sturdy branches. She did not stop when it swayed. She kept going till she was as high as she could go without moving out of the thick branches to hide her. She could hear the men running below her, but not all of them kept going.

"Spread out!" called one. "She wasn't going fast enough to have gotten away! The demon was slowing after her fall."

Aster caught her breath and gripped the tree. The men where starting to search the ground, whacking their hoes and stabbing their pitchforks at the bushes.

"Papa!" she called in her mind. If she spoke out loud, they would know where she was. Her Father couldn't always hear her, but she hoped he could now. Silently, she clung tighter to the trunk of the tree, as the voices grew closer and closer.

"Where'd the Hexentochter go?"

The men started to look up into the tree tops. Some even used their farming tools to rake the branches, and pull them lower.

"She can't be far, watch for her glowing red eyes!"

Did her eyes really glow? Terrified, Aster shut her eyelids tight. She could hear them getting even closer.

"There in that tree! The Hexentochter!"

The men swarmed around Aster's tree. They tried to reach her with their pitchforks and shovels, but she had climbed too high. Roaring in frustration, they tried to pelt her with stones, but they only succeeded in bonking themselves on the head. Suddenly, Aster heard cheering. The mob parted and allowed two men carrying axes to near the trunk. Taking turns, they started to chop away at the tree.

Aster could feel each stroke vibrate in the branches. As they chopped faster, she had to cling tighter to the swaying giant to keep her seat.

Suddenly, over the cheering of the men, she heard the familiar cry of a gold finch. Peering carefully over the branches, she saw her father racing towards her, her mother close behind.

"It's almost there!" "Quick, out of it's way!"

With a last chop, the tree started to topple. "Papa!" Aster cried.

Karl turned to his wife. "Do something!" he cried

Dropping his arm, she raised her hands and started muttering. Focusing on Aster, she watched the way the tree would fall.

Aster could feel her mother's spell around her. She slowed her breathing, and let the magic envelop her. When the tree thudded to the ground, Aster didn't feel a thing. Standing shakily, she could feel that nothing had broken. Before she could feel more, she felt two strong arms wrap around her, and smelt her father's familiar pine smell.

"I've got ye" she heard her father say just as his warm arms clasped her close. He turned and handed her to her mother. The men were charging forward.

"There's the Witch and her thrall."

"GO!" Karl shouted, unhooking his ax from his belt as he turned to face the rushing mob.

Without a word, Greta ran into the woods.

"No!" shrieked Aster, but her mother kept running. She pushed against her mother, and fell to the ground, but her mother grabbed her arm and kept running forward. Aster could hear the shouts and screams behind them. The sound of wood and steel...and bone. They kept running. Aster knew her mother would be heading for the bear's cave. Her Mother had taken her there many times when Papa was gone. It wouldn't harm them, but it would scare away the men. They were almost to the cave, when Aster felt it. It was like a knife in her heart. She fell to the ground in searing pain, and then all was black.

"Papa!" She cried. Her mother silently lifted her again, and ran into the cave.


End file.
